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Like a nautical version of the yellow brick road, illuminated anchors embedded in the floors of Ironside Fish & Oyster lead you to the Emerald City of raw bars, where the bounteous platters come in Big, Bigger, Biggest, and Holy Sh*t. This last assortment might include, say, 24 oysters, 14 shrimp, 14 mussels, two pounds of lobster, two ounces of sustainable royal white sturgeon caviar, a portion of rockfish ceviche, and some kanpachi crudo for good measure (the mix changes daily according to what’s fresh). Not that lovers of cooked seafood will go hungry at chef Jason McLeod’s Little Italy hot spot, where the catch of the day is a perennial favorite. There’s even a small yet mighty vegetarian lineup (think charred broccolini with dried chilis, garlic, and parmesan; and Japanese sweet potato with scallion chimichurri and puffed quinoa). It’s all rounded out by an impressive bar, where 11 categories of whiskey are represented. While the menu occasionally diverges from the strictly seafaring, the decor never does. The interior design features prow figureheads turned lighting fixtures and artful stacks of steamer trunks.

I forgave the service (slow as molasses) at Donald Link’s newest seafood spot, Peche, where highlights included crab-and-chilies capellini, fried bread, and fish sticks. Go with a crowd and order everything.

Are the Dutch so tall because they consume so much dairy? Hard to say, but the important thing is that delectable cheese made from the milk of cows and sheep grazing on lush pastures in Holland is sold throughout Amsterdam. Netherlanders have been making cheese since 400 C.E. and the product is as synonymous with Holland as tulips, clogs, and windmills. The country is the world’s largest cheese exporter, with a dairy industry that generates around €7 billion annually. There are touristy cheese markets in Alkmaar, Hoorn, and Edam where old weighhouses form the backdrop for the traditional cheese trade. For Amsterdam visitors, shops like Henri Willig Cheese & More proffer everything from mild Gouda and mellow Edam to Boerenkaas (literally, farmers’ cheese), an artisanal raw-milk product. The mini chain of cheese manufacturer Henri Willig was founded in 1974 and now has six shops in the center city and six others elsewhere in Holland. Over 1 million customers visit Henri Willig annually for organic, goat, and smoked cheese, as well as Dutch specialties like Frisian clove cheese (made with low-fat milk, cumin, and cloves) and Leidse kaas, the piquant, cumin-scented variety from Leiden. Henri Willig shops also sell cheese graters, slicers, fondue sets, and other accessories, as well as sweets like Dutch drop (licorice), chocolate, and stroopwafels. An export division ships products to 25 countries. Stop in for a snack, as samples are always set out for hungry customers.

Hillside Farmacy is a farm-to-table restaurant in Austin built around a pharmacy theme. While it may sound odd, the execution is brilliant, with incredible food and wonderfully eclectic design. The restaurant space was formerly the home of a 1920s pharmacy owned by Austin‘s first African-American pharmacist. The decor features authentic apothecary items (from a different 1920s drugstore)—a vintage collection of medicine bottles, antique cash registers, tin ceilings, and wooden cabinets. But it’s the “F” in the deliberately misspelled Farmacy that nods to the emphasis on simple, fresh food. The restaurant works with local food purveyors and regularly changes the menus around the highest-quality seasonal ingredients. Local cheese, homemade pate, artisinal breads and pastries, raw bar, charcuterie are all available here. Dishes include bangers and eggs, buttermilk bisquits and gravy, and bison tartare. Other perks include an old fashioned soda counter and a shaded outdoor patio. If I were a local here, this would definitely be one of my favorite go-to places.

Broadway Oyster Bar wears many hats. First and foremost, it’s an oyster bar, serving bivalves in a variety of fashions, from raw and char-grilled to fried and Rockefeller style. It’s also a solid bar, where a lot of folks come to party both before and after Cardinals games. Finally, it’s one of the finest music venues in St. Louis—or at least the most fun—with live shows twice a day, save for Fridays when one act plays the whole night. Expect local and national bands, plus a lot of New Orleans artists, playing anything from bluegrass to rock and reggae. Between all the eating, drinking, and music, take some time to learn the history of BOB. It’s housed in a building from the 1840s—one of the oldest in the city that’s still in use—that has served as a boardinghouse, Chinese laundry, record store, and bordello over the years. Naturally, it’s said to be haunted.

A five-star property in an old transformer station, Hotel Herman K brings industrial-chic style to the heart of Copenhagen. Much of the building’s raw, unpolished architecture has been preserved, lending the hotel an edgy vibe. A façade of dark bronze slats and large glass doors leads to the lobby, where a custom-designed artwork by Pio Diaz hangs from 40-foot ceilings. Down moody, dimly lit hallways, each of the 31 rooms and suites hides behind a black curtain, which is pulled aside for the duration of your stay. Inside, sleek furniture, soft carpets, and concrete walls contrast with white marble bathrooms, creating an altogether futuristic feeling. In fact, guests can even control the lights and sound from bed via panels in the headboard or steam their home media directly to the TV and speakers. If you need a break from all the technology, many rooms also include private balconies or terraces.

Herman K comes courtesy of Brøchner Hotels (Denmark’s leading boutique hotel chain) and features many of the company’s signature amenities, including a healthy, organic breakfast and a “night cap hour” with complimentary drinks. Should guests want something more substantial, Herman K is also home to Roxie, a three-story restaurant from the team behind two-Michelin-starred Nordic restaurant Kadeau.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

Every December 7 at Pearl Harbor, there is a memorial to those who died in the awful attacks that day in 1941. Survivors gather here, though fewer every year remain alive. Oil still rises from where the USS Arizona lies in the harbor. The horrific events of December 7 are still a raw part of the history here. Several months ago, the civil defense sirens went off all over Oahu. It was a glitch in the system, but I remember an elderly woman in downtown Honolulu who said she looked at the sky because she remembers when there really was an air raid, and the sirens bring her back to that time of eminent danger when what seemed impossible unfolded in front of her young eyes. For history buffs, students, and all sorts of tourists, this is a “must visit” National Park on Oahu. Tickets to take the boat to the memorial are cheap (but do require an advanced booking of a couple days), and there are several other activities and museums at Pearl Harbor to explore including a walk through the USS Bowfin.

Le Bernardin, on 51st Street between Sixth and Seventh avenues, is one of the handful of New York restaurants that is regularly awarded four stars by the New York Times (it is also one of five restaurants in the city with three Michelin stars). Chef Eric Ripert’s specialty is fish, and the menu is divided into three categories: “almost raw,” “barely touched,” and “lightly cooked.” If you like your tuna cooked medium, this isn’t the right place for you. Ripert often finds his inspiration in Japanese cooking, with his sashimi and light broths, and adds some Latin American influences, in his ceviches and some other dishes. The fish is always allowed to take center stage, and typically any sauce is merely intended to accent its flavors. The dining room has an understated, contemporary style with light-wood walls and high ceilings. Unlike some celebrated chefs, Ripert has chosen not to build a restaurant empire, increasing the odds that on any visit he will be at Le Bernardin, presiding over its kitchen and dining room.

For 20 years now, the Spring Mountain corridor north of the Las Vegas Strip has been a hotbed of hot pots—and every other Asian dish under the desert sun. When celebs such as Anthony Bourdain and Penn Jillette raved about the real-deal northern Thai cuisine at Lotus of Siam, chowhounds followed. Tell your friends you’re finally making the trip out to the strip mall and they’ll tell you to avoid the items you can order from the takeout joint at home: no pad thai, no chicken satay. They’re right. Dive into the last page of the menu, the one about dishes from Northern Thailand, then entrust your tastebuds to the award-winning hands of Chef Saipin Chutima and try her larb or the jackfruit curry, anything with ground pork sausage, the khao soi (egg noodles and meat in a coconut curry sauce), the nam prik ong (a chunky mix of pork, tomato, and red chili, served with lettuce and raw vegetables), or the whole fish with chilis. The food is spicy, yes, and the afterburn is serious, but the depth of flavor is sublime enough to make you weep with regret the next time you have to call your local takeout place for delivery.

Inspired by a former Ford car dealership that once sat on the site in upscale Mission Hills, Fort Oak’s interior mixes old and new; hexagonal tiles and brass accents give the space a vintage feel, while a black oak communal table and plank flooring bring a modern industrial vibe. Executive Chef Brad Wise excels at wood-fired cuisine—the exhibition kitchen has a 7,000-pound grill and range where he fires up 45-day dry-aged ribeye and Australian wagyu beef—but what really sets Fort Oak apart is a raw bar serving seafood towers and buttery hamachi poke. For a decadent night out, slide into Fort Oak’s chef’s counter for a six-course tasting menu cooked by Wise (offered Wednesday and Thursday nights every other week; reserve ahead).

An excellent addition to the Ubud raw-food scene (there is one!), Sayuri creates tasty food that heals, energizes, and nurtures your body. Even those unconvinced of the powers of a raw-food diet find the food delicious. The menu isn’t overly rigid, though; it includes smoothies and cold-pressed juices, breakfast-all-day dishes, and daily specials with vegan versions of bibimbap, enchiladas, and lasagna. Sayuri also runs cooking classes and workshops for those who would like to learn to make wholesome food and body products for themselves.

SUR Beach House is everything a beach retreat ought to be. This chic Medano Beach property offers a relaxed, almost private-residence feel. Breakfasts range from healthy, green, and juicy to the indulgent croque madame. Pair any meal with a handcrafted cocktail; the SUR Caesar is a nice play on the classic Canadian cocktail and comes with crispy rib eye tips and roasted habanero sauce. The raw bar is like a love letter to the sea. Not least of all, the kitchen turns out delightful oyster preparations, but don’t leave Cabo without trying the raw chocolata clams. Named for their color, not their flavor, these meaty mollusks are best with just a little lime and hot sauce. (Come early for stand-up paddleboarding; Cabo SUP is located on-site and offers rentals as well as lessons.)

The award-winning Depot is a restaurant with a difference run by quintessential Kiwi chef and author Al Brown. Squid ink linguine, pork hock and plump fresh oysters come hand-in-hand with wine on tap, old style crockery and super friendly service. I personally think the best seats are outside. Unfortunately they’ve succumbed to the “no reservations” disease so a good approach is to put your name on the door and then grab a drink across the road at Belotta in the SkyCity complex.

If you’re feeling in need of a detox after overindulging in Hobart’s excellent dining scene, the Tasmanian Juice Press is the place for you. Serving delicious cold-pressed juices, heavenly smoothies, nutritious rice bowls, hearty broths and raw sweet treats, this is a shrine to good health.